Crossed in Midair
by Face of Poe
Summary: One shot; Sorcerer's Stone filler scene- what happens after Ron and Hermione cross paths with Dumbledore in the Entrance Hall as he hurtles towards the third floor to save Harry? Short & sweet, features Snape, McGonagall, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore. Guest appearance from an unconscious Harry.


**A/N: **A completely random filler scene that's been bopping around my head for a couple days. Nothing monumental.

**Crossed in Midair**

It was very early in the morning indeed when identical and eerie glowing phoenixes hovered simultaneously in the otherwise darkened bed chambers of the respective heads of rival houses, jolting Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape immediately from sleep.

'_The third floor; come at once._'

McGonagall had the advantage of proximity to the third floor, but Snape made up for it in speed borne from his past days as dark servant and then double agent, subject to summoning from either side at all hours. The two met with a brief halt and curt nods at the doorway to the floor from the grand staircase, before proceeding onwards past the Charms corridor, cloaks billowing out behind them as staccato footsteps echoed in the otherwise empty halls. No students were foolish enough to be out of bed at two in the morning.

But as they rounded the final turn to the- open?- door housing Hagrid's monstrous beast, the murmur of strained voices spoke to the error in the professors' thinking. Strained voices overlaid with a strange trill of music.

"…it's been ages…you don't think…?"

"Don't, Ronald! Just…I'm sure everything is fine…"

Snape and McGonagall stared in open-mouthed shock at the audacity of the two who seemed to be sitting vigil beside the open trap-door. A harp sat beside the Granger girl and seemed to be playing itself. The dog, meanwhile, was snoring from all three drooling snouts.

"He wouldn't be taking so long if everything were _fine_…"

Snape recovered first, undoubtedly due to his colleague's disbelief that Granger could be so foolhardy again, after costing her house fifty points just a few short months ago for a similar late-night transgression.

"Waiting on Potter then, are we?" They whirled around so fast he was sure it would cause them whiplash. The blood drained promptly from Weasley's already-pale face. Granger looked from him to her head-of-house, before half-turning and glancing down at the trapdoor, a look of dread creeping into her features. "_Well_?"

Weasley stammered incoherently. "But if you- then who's down-?"

"I suppose house points don't matter, as you've already managed to cost Gryffindor any hope of winning the cup, but I'm sure we can find some suitable punishment to fit the severity of this particular crime. Expulsion comes _gleefully_ to mind."

Granger barely reacted to that threat. Interesting. "Please, professors, you don't understand…"

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "The _nerve_ of you three, how _dare_ you presume to place yourself at risk, after I explicitly stated this afternoon…"

It was becoming all-too-obvious to Snape what had occurred. Dumbledore must have set up a spell to alert him to any intruders in the banned wing of the third floor. Being away in London and unable to come himself, he'd sent his patronus back to the two professors, one to deal with the sidekicks waiting above and another to descend into the tunnels to make sure that blasted, arrogant Potter didn't get himself killed. In all likelihood, he'd spent the last Merlin-knew-how-long tangled up in the Devil's Snare while his nasty little friends presumed him on some heroic quest to procure the hidden Stone.

"And what is that _infernal_ noise?" he snapped, waving his wand in irritation at the harp, returning the room to stony silence.

The silence lasted maybe ten seconds before the dog grunted and twitched in its sleep, Granger whimpered, and snatched a roughly-hewn flute sitting by her side and began playing a random tune. The beast rustled around a moment more before settling its middle head back down between the other two and falling back into a deep slumber.

"The music," Weasley explained faintly. "Keeps Fluffy asleep."

"Oh, for f-"

"Severus!"

He flicked his wand impatiently and the harp resumed, allowing Granger to lower the flute once more. "Right. Professor McGonagall will see you two to her office while I descend to pull Potter out of whatever sticky situation he's found himself."

A deep voice rose from the dark passage below. "That won't be necessary, Severus."

"_Dumbledore?_"

"Harry!"

A silver-white head was emerging from the trapdoor. The headmaster was clearly exerting himself a little as he climbed the conjured ladder, the reason for which became evident as a dark-haired head appeared, the boy unconscious and cradled in the headmaster's arms.

Snape rushed forward and relieved Dumbledore of his burden. "_Idiot_ boy!" he snarled, the reaction more instinctive than truly vitriolic because, as he looked over the child, there was clear evidence of very real injury. And something more…

He looked sharply up at Dumbledore as he stepped fully out of the trapdoor, graciously accepting a helping hand from Weasley. "There is dark magic at work here."

"Yes," Dumbledore murmured, "yes. Harry has met and escaped Lord Voldemort for the second time now tonight."

A hand flew to McGonagall's mouth. Granger let out a dry sob as she peered irritatingly over Snape's shoulder as the potions master continued to look him over. "Please, professor, is he-?"

"He will be fine, Miss Granger," Dumbledore spoke soothingly, "many thanks to yourself and Mr. Weasley's efforts, I expect." They flushed, even in their concern. "We need to see him to Madame Pomfrey, though." His eyes drifted over Snape. "If there is nothing… outside of her expertise…?"

"No," Snape muttered, eyes half-closed as he held his wand over the boy's chest and then his head, lingering above the angry red curse scar, "there is a residual resonance of sorts, but a stronger defensive magic protects him."

"Very well." Dumbledore sighed heavily and gathered Potter back up in his arms. "Mister Weasley, Miss Granger, you may accompany Mister Potter as far as the hospital wing, but then I shall ask you to wait with Professor McGonagall in her office, so you might later tell me about your adventures tonight in full."

"Yes, sir," Granger whispered, wide eyes still fixated on the unconscious boy.

Almost reluctantly, Dumbledore returned his gaze to Snape. "Severus, if you'll proceed to the final chamber below- I've disengaged the assorted enchantments, your journey will be unimpeded- I will require your assistance with the… aftermath of tonight's events."

His brow furrowed and he cocked his head, staring intently into those bright eyes, so uncharacteristically sober. A muscle twitched in his jaw and he nodded once, tightly, in understanding.

Granger opened her mouth twice as Dumbledore began to walk to the door, seeming to make up her mind just before he crossed the threshold. "Please, professor… You-Know-Who, he couldn't have done this alone… could he?"

The headmaster's shoulders slumped noticeably, but his expression was understanding when he turned again. "No, Miss Granger- as ever, he has preyed on the weak and impressionable to take what he needs, and with ruthless disregard for those he uses." He hesitated, then sighed. "After what you three have done for the school tonight- the wizarding world as whole, indeed- you only have the right to know.

"Professor Quirrell is dead."

X-X-X-X

**A/N: **Like I said- nothing monumental. Thanks for perusing. :-)


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